


Fear is a Blinding Light

by Webtrinsic



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, BAMF Steve Harrington, Broken Bones, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Good Parent Jim "Chief" Hopper, Grumpy Jim "Chief" Hopper, Hurt Steve Harrington, Insecure Steve Harrington, Nightmares, Panic Attacks, Parental Jim "Chief" Hopper, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Jim "Chief" Hopper, Self-Esteem Issues, Sleep Deprivation, Steve Harrington Needs a Hug, Steve Harrington-centric, Steve Has Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-02
Updated: 2020-07-02
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:13:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25036012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Webtrinsic/pseuds/Webtrinsic
Summary: Hopper sees a side of Steve Harrington he doesn't even believe Steve himself has met when he catches him speeding down the street and disappearing into the tunnels, the children’s names on his lips, and eyes so dazed Hopper was sure he wasn't seeing anything at all.
Relationships: Steve Harrington & Jim "Chief" Hopper, Steve Harrington & The Party
Comments: 16
Kudos: 193





	Fear is a Blinding Light

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sweetspire](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweetspire/gifts).



> i realized by the time i finish my writing folder my account with have 199 potentially 200 fics if i go through with this other thing. holy crap.

It was both a problem and a nuisance that most small towns faced, yet here in monster filled Hawkins Indiana, it was even more pressing. A small town meant less people, and that meant even less cops to handle whatever muckery was going on in the middle of nowhere.

Which is why at three twenty two in the morning, Hopper was reduced to sitting in his Blazer waiting for someone to come by and do something worth his attention, and fill out as many reports as he could. Jim had come to the conclusion not even nearly a month into becoming a cop that not many people in crowded areas were all too keen to commit crimes when they’d see the person that arrested them just about every time they left the house.

Of course this didn’t matter as much to the many repeat teens he locked in cuffs, always so sure that they were invincible to everything, especially the law. And if it was an adult, it was often, almost always the same adult. 

Dumbass Niel Hargrove.

Rolling his eyes at the mere thought of the drunk, Hopper took a long sip of his now cold coffee, nearly falling back into the routine of dull paperwork when the sound of screeching tires had his head snapping up and his coffee dribbling down his chin.  A mistake it seemed because his eyes were immediately shot by a pair of high beams. Swiping his arm across his face, the chief mopped away the mess and protected his eyes all in one go. 

His free hand shooting out to the gear automatically, in his blindness the car jerked into reverse, mud latching onto the tires, ensnaring it with its thorns and refusing to let the car or it’s passenger give chase.

“Dammit, start!” His foot less than gently slammed onto the gas pedal, and his Blazer’s game of tug of war was quickly won over, maybe all too well because the sound alone of the tires pressing back onto the asphalt would ring in his ears for the rest of eternity.

The speeding car was long since out of sight but there was only one place it could be going. He hadn’t gotten a look of its make, but he suspected any car he came across would likely be the culprit. 

The pumpkin patch, kids partied there, it had to be one of those teens. He didn’t see the fun of it. The entrance to the tunnels was there. 

Lightning fear danced and crackled over his heart as he drove off the beaten path, his own headlights revealing the fresh imprints of tires, they were close. He knew he should have called about getting the damn thing filled in, a couple lines of police tape would never be enough. In fact the only thing it did was likely draw the attention of stupid kids, teens, and maybe even a few idiotic adults.

None of _his_ kids would come back to this place, they knew better, at least he thought they did. Except, they seemingly, or one of them seemingly didn’t because within seconds he saw Steve Harrington’s head and shoulders disappearing into the earth, his car empty beside the hole, its lights on and the driver’s side door flung open.

“Harrington!” Hopper shouted through his comm, pulling up beside the BMW and hauling ass out of the vehicle and into the tunnel below. His knees buckled and his ankles groaned, the heavy belt on his waist weighing him down.

“Harrington!” The chiefs jowls chopped, his shoes pressing into the dirt as he stomped after the teen who had a bigger lead on him than he’d like. Pulling his shirt up over his nose, Hopper cleared his throat, the dirt in the air threatening to spoil his lungs.

“At least cover your mouth damn it!” Suppressing a shiver from the cooling air, Hopper took the teen in, really took him in as the kid staggered, seemingly getting stuck in the mud for a few seconds before continuing his struggle.

He wasn’t wearing shoes. Pajama bottoms were resting low on his hips, and his thin T-shirt was likely infesting him with the cold and dirt dancing in the air.

“Kid!” Hopper shouted again, heaving in the fabric of his shirt as a new burst of energy sent him forward, only just able to snag the boy’s arm. The teen flinched horribly, pulling almost entirely out of the older man’s grip with a strength Hopper was almost sure the kid didn’t possess. Ultimately he was wrong.

The teen went tumbling to the ground, bringing the chief with him, his socked feet scrambling for purchase until he was taking off again in a blur. A blur Hopper latched onto for a second in his mind's eye.

Glazed eyes, teary and unfocused; a jutting, trembling lip trying and seemingly failing to form actual words. The kid may be there, but he wasn’t there mentally, that much he could tell, he’d seen it before, many a times, including some times he looked in the mirror.

“Steve,” Hopper pleaded, trying to get back onto his feet, his shoes getting tangled up in the gnarled roots below. He needed to get the kid out of here now, if Hopper had been afraid of the kid getting hurt before, he was terrified now, and he knew the teen was too.

“Kid,” The coo that came from his mouth was foreign to his lips, but his normal approach wouldn’t be enough and would only rile Steve up further. The teen couldn’t have got another ten feet ahead before his ankle was caught on a larger root, it seemingly snapping the bone because the noise of it echoed loudly enough to make Hopper wince. Scarier than that, other than a faint whimper, Steve didn’t seem to care at all. Determinedly crawling, trying and failing to get to his feet, but continuing to crawl seemingly desperate for something.

Finally within reach, Hopper pulled the teen close, tucking the shivering and heaving form against his chest, Jim wrapped himself tightly around the teen to stop him from fighting and pulling more of this shit into his lungs.

“Steve,” Jim repeated, gently pulling the boy’s head back by his nape. Tears were running down the kids face, and finally Hopper was close enough to make out the words that only just managed to breach the boy’s lips.

“The kids,” The teen whimpered, and new fears were rising. Hopper didn’t think the kids were actually here but he couldn’t be sure, certainly not as sure as Steve.

“Are safe,” he hoped, rubbing his hands up and down the boy’s arms the minute the kid stopped resisting and latched onto his biceps.

“No,” the teen continued to resist, his head awfully heavy as it fell back against Hopper’s collarbone, silently weeping, petrified for the kids and the currently nonexistent danger they were in.

“They’re alright,” Hopper assured once again, bunching the teen into his arms knowing the kid likely wouldn’t be able to walk out of this place. If the kid wasn’t so consumed with the thoughts in his head, Hopper knew he’d be protesting as much as his legs were.

Freezing, injured, and haunted; Steve Harrington collapsed in fatigue, leaving Hopper to carry the teen to the mouth of the cave, looking up into the high moon with no actual way of getting them out, thankfully his radio wasn’t too caked in mud.

* * *

He didn’t really believe the teen was a deep sleeper, potentially he may have been one in the past but not any longer. A person who slept soundly and deeply didn’t have the same markers as this new responsible Steve.

In the past, and even for a little while after seeing the teen look after the kids he didn’t think he was the person for the job. He didn’t anymore though, not after tonight and he had a feeling if even the kid slipped up he’d still believe it, because Hopper had seen the most raw form of love and devotion possible in a human being in a mortified Steve.

Broken and still crawling, his ankle broken, lungs stuttering, and his temperature continuously dropping, Steve Harrington kept going. It was remarkable really. More than that even, it was like nothing Hopper had ever seen.

He’d seen monsters, little girls with telekinetic powers, loss, and a whole lot of things that aged him. He’d seen the will in some humans, and the will in himself, and at the end of the day, when he looked very hard he didn’t think any of it would ever compare to the will Steve had displayed. Maybe nothing would ever again, and he was perfectly alright with that.

Hopper fiddled in his seat, thumbs twitching as he looked down. It was always better to look at the ground rather than at the surrounding area, it was still very much a hospital floor but he’d take things slowly.  The floor was better than looking at Steve, and he did want to look at Steve. He wanted to make sure the kid was still there and breathing, but his lips were still blue and his skin was still too pale. He couldn’t look, not at the moment, he was sure the kid if he were awake, would have understood. 

* * *

Steve didn’t know if Hopper pulled some strings or if hospitals actually served ramen to their patients normally but he was grateful for it regardless. He wasn’t a fan of processed food after eating it for so long, but he did like ramen, well he liked making his own too but he’d take what he could get for now.

“They said there shouldn’t be any permanent damage to your lungs but you need to take deep breaths,” Hopper advised even though Steve more than heard the doctor tell him the same thing.

“Will do chief,” Steve murmured, slurping at the bowl in his hands. Making sure to be a little more visible with his breathing when he wasn’t stuffing his face with noodles. In fact he even had to slow down, afraid that when he finally ran out he’d have to talk about what sent him down.

He didn’t want to relieve that nightmare, nor did he ever want to see it come true because in this town there was always the possibility of it coming true. 

“Could I get more ramen or is there like a rule or something about how much I can eat here?” It was silly, he knew it and so did Hopper but he answered nonetheless.

“No, Joyce had Jonathan bring a few over for you, apparently she insisted on making you soup or something but he didn’t let her,” Hopper ended up huffing a laugh at the end of it, Steve as well just with a little more breath but they were amused and now Steve felt the tinges of embarrassment crawling over him.

“Does everyone know I’m here?” 

“No. Just those two, told ‘em not to bring it up to the kids. I don’t think they need to know about this,” Hopper knew Steve likely wouldn’t know how to handle if the kids knew, but he did, and Hopper wouldn’t tell the kids but some nagging part of him wished they knew, mainly because to have someone love them so deeply and being completely unaware of it made his chest pang.

He pitied those kids, and he pitied every single person on earth who didn’t have that love in their life. 

“We don’t have to talk about it kid, just know it’s normal and they’re safe, thanks to you.”

“Thanks to you too,” Steve returned, burying himself back into his noodles.

A retort nearly rolled back off Hopper’s lips, absolutely sick and tired of the kid brushing his own accomplishments off but the kid spoke first.

“Let’s just tell the little runts I broke my ankle in basketball, and then they can come and visit,”

“I don’t think that’d explain the potential pneumonia,”

“Don’t a bunch of people get that shit in hospitals?” Hopper really didn’t think so but he wasn’t going to argue, he really didn’t want to end up taking the kids to and fro from this awful place.

“No idea but I’m sure one of them does and then they’ll call you out.”

“Yeah, the twirps are too smart for their own good,” Steve complained, sipping the last bit of juice from his bowl. Contemplating if he wasn’t even ready to see them again.

“We’ll probably have to tell them you’re here regardless, we’ll just wait till the rest of the antibiotics kick in.”

“Why’s that?”

“Don’t you chauffeur them around? They’ll probably wonder why you aren’t available, a broken foot covers that, in fact it covers you for a while,”

Yeah, they’d just have to wait until the doctor gave him the all clear, then the twirps could come or better yet he could go home.

* * *

Steve tried his best not to trip with his crutches around the house, and he tried his best to not let anything more slip when Hopper came by to chat, and Steve held his tongue when the kids hounded him for not letting them visit him when he got his cast put on.

They shut up when he let them sign it, he was forced to cover some rather crude drawings either courtesy of Max or Mike, he hadn’t been able to tell with them all hunched over his leg, but he knew it was one of them.

And if he was being truthful, he didn’t actually mind it at all.

**Author's Note:**

> snap: allisonw1122  
> tumblr/twitter: webtrinsic1122  
> insta: webtrinsic


End file.
